


Timeless Encounters

by MistressofLoki



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-25
Updated: 2014-05-25
Packaged: 2018-01-26 12:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1687970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressofLoki/pseuds/MistressofLoki
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frigga predicts that Darcy will be Loki's soulmate but it's not an easy ride through time for Loki to win her. Can Loki guide her safety to the point when she can be his?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Timeless Encounters

Timeless Encounters

_Asgard 1536_

 

Frigga, Queen of Asgard sat alone in her and Odin’s quarters, gazing out over Asgard. Night had fallen over the ethereal kingdom of Aesir and the stars were out in the millions, cosmic stardust glittering beautifully in the sky. From here she could see the Bifrost, a beacon in the middle of the cosmic backdrop behind it. She stared out thoughtfully over it all, her hands clasped around a goblet of wine. The sound of footsteps made her turn her head.

 

“Loki,” she spoke softly.

 

“Hello mother,” the Prince spoke to her as he carefully walked forwards and leant against the pillar. His dark hair, trimmed to his neck was tucked back neatly as always. He wore his casual black leather ensemble, the gold metal gleaming out against the black. His emerald eyes gazed over at her expectantly. “You wanted to see me?” he asked.

 

Frigga smiled softly. “Yes I did.” She turned back to the stars. “I had a vision last night.”

 

“What kind of vision? Is it trouble?” Loki asked, his voice tinged with a calm concern that made Frigga smile. Loki was ever the strategist, fore-thinking the worst before it even happened.

 

“For your heart perhaps.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“I’ve found her, Loki.”

 

“Who?”

 

“Your soulmate.”

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

_London, 1554_

 

“Lady Darcelle!” the mousy haired servant girl called as she strode up the stairs of Greenwood Manor towards the bedroom at the end of the East Wing. It was a long walk and the portraits of past family members stared down at her eerily as she made her way along the soft carpet to the double doors at the end of the hall. “Lady Darcelle!” she called again, as she approached the chamber doors.

 

“Come in,” her mistress’ voice beckoned her inside and the servant girl pushed through the doors, closing them niftily behind her. The large bed chamber was well lit by the summer’s light of May. She could see her mistress changing behind the separator. She walked forwards quickly.

 

“Would you like any assistance, my lady?”

 

“Yes, can you assist me with the corset?” Lady Darcelle asked quietly. The servant girl, Marie, nodded with an affectionate smile. Her ladyship often had trouble with corsets.

 

“Of course, milady.” With a nod, Marie joined her mistress who was already in her petticoat and stockings. She helped the young woman put the corset on securely before tying it up carefully and efficiently.

 

“What was so urgent?” Lady Darcelle asked as the corset was tightened.

 

Marie briefly looked up from her work. “Sir George Howard has arrived,” she announced quietly. She watched her mistress take the news silently.

 

“Do you think him handsome?” Darcelle asked.

 

“Yes, I would say so.”

 

“And in good health?”

 

“He seemed in fine health and spirits, milady.”

 

“I suppose he ought to be, he is 35 after all,” Darcelle chuckled.

 

“He looks younger than his years, milady,” Marie informed her as she finished the corset and began to help her mistress into the blue silken gown that she was to wear to greet him.

 

“I suppose that is in our favour,” Darcelle mused. “He is 17 years older than me after all.”

 

“I suppose one of the best things about such a match is that you will outlive him and be free to do what you will with the household,” Marie said. “However you might find him a charming husband,” she added.

 

“Not to mention he is the best match that Father could acquire. He was brother to Queen Katherine Howard after all. I would be sister-in-law to a dead Queen.” Darcelle murmured. “I cannot decide if that is a good or a bad omen though I suppose it matters not.”

 

“I suppose not, milady,” Marie murmured as she helped her with the dress.

 

 xxxxxx

 

Sir George Howard proved to be a charming man and every bit as handsome as Marie had said that he was. He was quite tall, rather clean shaven despite his age with thick blonde hair worn to his neck and combed back with a casual elegance that even Lady Darcelle had to admit was attractive. With his deep brown eyes and chiselled jawline, he was considered quite a catch and she was beginning to see why.

 

She spent the next two weeks entertaining him with music, card games and listening to his stories of court and of war. They would go for long walks and rides in the afternoon and in the evenings he would adjourn to the drawing room with the men whilst Darcelle and her ladies would head to her chambers.

 

All was looking promising until Darcelle became ill with a fever in the third week. At first she was still able to sit up but was confined to her chambers with Sir George paying the occasional visit, in order to avoid contagion. However by the end of the week, she was bedridden and unable to leave her chambers.

 

A physician was sent for and within a day, one arrived at Greenwood Manor from Central London. He looked foreign and had dark hair and pale skin. His eyes were an emerald green and there was something regal about the way he held himself. He gave off an aura of authority despite the class of the people around him. He introduced himself as Loki, physician of Norway, who had happened to be in London at the time of the search.

 

He was taken up to see Darcelle and examined the fragile, paling brunette in the bed with some care and keen observation. He kept watch over her for several days.

On the fifth day since his arrival, Darcelle was more awake and stirred sleepily into consciousness. She blinked repeatedly before looking around the room, her eyes squinting at the light and trying to process what she was seeing. As her sight returned to her, sound returned to her too and slowly but surely, she began to feel her symptoms.

 

Her head swam with an aching dizziness, her vision blurring now and again. Despite the sleep she’d just had, her body felt tired and weary as though she’d not slept in days. A small headache lurked in the background and her stomach was filled with a nasty queasy feeling.

 

“Stay still,” a soft voice spoke to her from her left side. She turned her head and found herself staring into emerald eyes. A dark haired young physician was sat next to her bed, watching her carefully. “Don’t overexert yourself just yet, you’re still rather ill.”

 

“H-how long have I been ill?” she murmured.

 

“A few days,” the stranger explained.

 

Darcelle frowned as she tilted her head up to the ceiling. That would have put an end to the delights of entertaining Sir George Howard. She vaguely wondered if he was still around, having known that she was ill. In the corners of her confused mind, she thought she had received a few visits but her memory wasn’t the best right now. She contemplated whether he’d still be staying at the Manor or if he’d have gone back to Central London.

 

It did make her wonder if her illness would change anything about the match. Would it make them ask questions about her capabilities and strength as a wife? The thought troubled her. Though George was a lot older and this was an arranged match, it would be a good move for her family, politically despite him being a disgraced Queen’s brother and the cousin of another disgraced Queen. George and some of his family had estranged themselves from the nasty business so they were generally considered good nobility.

 

If George decided that Darcelle would be too feeble to marry or bear his heirs then what would their prospects be for other matches? She let out a sigh as thinking about this sent painful aches to her head.

 

She looked to the stranger. “Who are you?”

 

“My name is Loki. I’m a physician from Norway.” The young man told her with a smile.

 

“You’re very young...” Darcelle commented.

 

“Not as young as you might think,” he smiled. “I have a youthful face but I’m a lot older.”

 

Darcelle smiled a little, weakly. “How fortunate for you. I suppose you’d have no trouble getting a match, unless you have one already?”

 

Loki chuckled a little. “I’m afraid not though your words are very kind.”

 

“That surprises me. You are very attractive on the eyes,” Darcy murmured with an amused smile, causing him to laugh a little.

 

“Why thank you; you are a very flattering patient,” he told her lightly.

 

She managed a small dry laugh of her own. However her throat felt dry and she soon coughed. Loki was up instantly and leaning over her with a cup of water. Lifting her into a sitting position with one hand, he gently helped her to drink some of the water before pulling the cup away from her briefly.

 

“More,” she rasped.

 

“Of course but don’t gulp it, sip it carefully,” he told her before offering her the cup again. “You are still in the throes of the fever though it is good that you have regained more consciousness.”

 

“Am I through the worst? Will I recover?” Darcelle asked; her blue eyes boring into his green ones. She couldn’t hide the anxiety from her face as she asked this question.

 

“I should think you are through the worst and that you’ll make a full recovery,” Loki told her. “But it’ll take time. The fever has taxed you and still continues to do so. It will be a longer road than you might wish until you are fit and well again.” Darcelle frowned and nodded at him to take the cup away. He helped her to lie down again and put the cup aside. She watched him carefully.

 

“Is Sir George Howard still about?” she asked faintly.

 

“He’s had to go to the centre of the city for a day or so but he gives his word that he will return and see how you recover.” Loki assured her.

Darcelle frowned and looked away. “Or he may not return and make his excuses.”

 

Loki smiled gently at her. “Or he might just surprise you. People do that. Besides he is unlikely to obtain a more beautiful bride.”

 

Darcelle’s eyes met his in surprise at his words and she was taken aback to see the honesty and admiration in those emerald orbs.

 

xxxxxx

 

The lady’s health continued to vary in the next few weeks, sometimes showing signs of improvement and at other times, going on a steady decline. Sir George Howard returned and visited the young lady often but occasionally had to visit the centre of London again on business. The longer the illness lasted, the more uncertain the fate of the arrangement became in regards to the family.

 

“Do you know? Lady Darcelle,” Loki began as he gently cleansed the brow of the sickly lady, one morning whilst she lay in bed, “I am beginning to believe that you cannot make your mind up as to whether you are to recover or remain sick.”

 

The young woman smiled despite her pallor. “I simply enjoy your company, medicine man,” she murmured in a jest. “I choose to be sick so I can enjoy your company, and choose to be better so that you can see your medicine works,” she teased him.

 

Loki laughed a little. “You also paint my medicines to fail when you fall sick again.”

 

“How else am I to keep you by my side?” Darcelle jokingly pointed out.

 

“I think I’d rather you lived than you die and make my medicines out to be useless,” Loki told her with a chuckle as he gently cleansed her face. Darcelle leant into his cloth with a warm smile, taking him by surprise and making him falter.

 

“What is the matter?” Darcelle asked. “Do not tell me that you are not well now too,” she lightly teased, making him chuckle.

 

“No, I am well,” Loki murmured. “I am a physician after all. I simply thought I saw some colour in your cheeks.”

 

“Perhaps it is the fire.”

 

“Or perhaps you are feeling better than you’ve said.”

 

xxxxxxx

 

It was at midnight a week later, when Darcelle was making improvements in health, when Loki wandered out into the gardens to meet his mother who stood quietly behind a large oak tree. He rounded the tree and smiled warmly in greeting.

 

“What brings you to Midgard, Mother?”

 

“A warning,” Frigga smiled sadly. “I came to check that you have not made moves on the lady yet.”

 

“She is bedridden with fever, it is hardly the time. And I’m unable to use my magic to quicken the healing without it looking suspicious. I have to use their mortal means,” he paused for a moment, “which are very few.”

 

He was confused by the sudden expression of relief on his mother’s face. “What is wrong?”

 

Frigga said nothing at first, her eyes dimmed with sadness. Many thoughts and worries passed through Loki’s head before his mother finally answered.

 

“I was wrong to send you here. It is not the right time for you and this young maiden.”

 

Loki frowned. “Did you not say she was my soulmate?”

 

“I did but I have seen her destiny in this lifetime. It cannot be altered as some can.”

 

“Why not? Is she destined for royalty?”

 

“No. It just can’t be changed. I wish to spare you as much pain as possible.”

 

“You speak of lifetimes for her as though she has more than one.”

 

“She will. And eventually she will find you and she will be yours, forever.”

 

“Can you know this for certain?” Loki asked. “Because the woman lying in that bed up there... I already feel so much for her. I don’t want to let her go without knowing that my chance with her is definitely elsewhere.”

 

Frigga stepped forward, her shape standing out against the backdrop of night. “I do know this. I had another vision, a clearer one. You will get your chance. But you have to leave her to her life now. Come back to Asgard with me.”

 

Loki frowned and looked to the house. “I’m her physician, she needs me.”

 

“She will recover, Loki. I promise she will. But she has her own destiny here. Leave now and spare yourself anymore pain.” Loki frowned at his mother’s words, his face struggling to maintain its composure as he gazed at the house. He barely heard her speak again. “Come.”

 

xxxxxx

 

He managed to stay away for two years before curiosity got the better of him. Against his mother’s advice he returned to London in search of Lady Darcelle.

 

He never expected to be faced with a tombstone.

 

All his enquiries had led him here. Apparently Lady Darcelle Howard (as she was now known) had gone on to marry Sir George and within a month of the marriage had become with child. She’d given birth to a son but had not survived labour thanks to weakening with illness that she’d had two years before. Upon reading that, Loki’s heart had crumpled with pain. He stood in front of the gravestone, unashamedly crying silently.

 

She was dead; this had been her destiny. No wonder his mother had wanted to spare him...

 

xxxxxx

 

It was another seven years he stayed away before he returned to London one last time for a while. He was walking down a well-established neighbourhood towards a school at the end of the street. As he approached the playground outside, his eyes began to search the children. It only took him a moment to find the right child.

 

A young boy was running around with his friend, tossing a ball about.

 

He was the image of his late mother; Darcy’s hair and image shined out of him as he laughed with his friends. He didn’t see the god watching him across the street and he didn’t see the tears that slipped down his face.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

Llangollen, 1940

 

“Darcy, darling, get on the train,” Mrs Simpson begged her 10 year old, tearfully. “Come now, sweetheart, don’t cry...”

 

But Darcy did cry; she couldn’t help herself. She didn’t want to leave her mother back in Liverpool and go live in Wales. She was scared to imagine her mother lonely in the city with the bombs dropping on her all night.

 

“Mama, can’t you come with me?” Darcy pleaded. “I’ll be good as gold!”

 

“No, sweetie, I’m not allowed otherwise I’d join you in a heartbeat,” her mother told her, pulling her close.

 

“Let’s ask that officer!” Darcy declared, pointing to a passing officer. “Mister! Mister!” Before Mrs Simpson could quieten her daughter, the officer was already walking forwards. Mrs Simpson was relieved to see crinkles around the eyes. He was a smiler.

 

“What can I do for you, young missy?” he asked, bending over so he was eye level with her.

 

“Let my Mama come with me!” Darcy declared. “I’ll be super good!”

 

The officer, an aging 50’s man with a blonde mop of hair and a moustache, shot Mrs Simpson a sad look. He turned to Darcy. “I’m sorry Missy but your mother’s needed here to help us all out.” He told the little girl who looked crestfallen. He knelt down in front of her. “But I tell you what. We’ll go win this war so you can come home to her, agreed?” he told her. “But you have to be a strong brave girl for your mother, for that to happen.”

 

Darcy looked at the officer sadly. “Is there nothing you can do?”

 

“Darcy!” Mrs Simpson chided. “I’m sorry Officer-” she began.

 

He chuckled. “It’s quite alright. I don’t blame her. I wouldn’t have wanted to be separated from my home either.” He looked at Darcy. “That’s the only deal I can give you, missy. Take it or leave it.”

 

Darcy deliberated for a moment. “I’ll do it!” she said with a brave nod.

 

“Good girl. Now kiss your mother goodbye and hurry onto that train.”

 

To Mrs Simpson’s relief, Darcy did as she was told and was soon boarding the train.

 

xxxxxx

 

It was seven o’clock when the train reached Llangollen.

 

As Darcy stepped off with her label and small box of belongings, she looked around the platform to see how many other children were getting off at this stop. The more she looked around, the same sight greeted her. The sound of the train setting off again told her that she was all alone on the platform.

 

She held onto her box fearfully and looked around for the nearest adult. The station was deserted and the moon was already high in the darkened sky. Darcy was alone on the platform. Realising that made her seriously wish she’d not gotten off the train and just snuck off with some other children.

 

The platform was creepy and there was no one else about. In the middle of the platform was a shelter and so Darcy made for that for now. It was better than nothing and offered some protection from any bad weather that might come.

 

Sitting down on the bench, Darcy began to wait for signs of anyone coming past; anyone who could take her to the nearest town would be most welcome right now.

 

xxxxxx

 

It had been at least three hours since she’d been left alone at the station when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Having been dozing on the bench, Darcy sat up and grabbed her things, heading out onto the platform again in search of whoever was there.

 

A dark haired man stood there with a serene smile on his face. “Hello there,” he said. “Are you the evacuee we were expecting?” His voice was calm and charming, the way you’d expect a grown up to sound like. Relief flooded Darcy’s face at his question.

 

“Yes! I am! I’ve been waiting here for three hours and it was too dark.” Darcy hurriedly explained. An unknown flicker of emotion shone in the stranger’s eyes for a moment before he moved to sit down on the bench, examining her for the moment.

 

“You brave child. It must have been frightening, staying out here in the dark like that. I’m very sorry someone didn’t come to meet you sooner.”

 

“It’s alright,” Darcy told him good-naturedly. “It wasn’t as frightening as the war is.”

 

“That’s a good point.” The stranger chuckled.

 

“So why was no one there to pick me up? Did no one get the message?”

 

“No, they did,” The man explained. “The officer for our village fell ill and had to go to bed. She was unable to tell anyone about you. It so happened that I couldn’t sleep and decided to have a walk around the village,” he said. “She’d woken up at night, fretting about her duties and she called out to me to tell me about you.” He smiled. “So here I am.”

 

Darcy smiled a little. “What’s your name, Mister?”

 

“Loki,” he replied quietly. “My name is Loki. No Mister, just Loki.”

 

“Really? I can call you that.”

 

“Of course,” he told her. He stood up again. “What is your name, little one?”

 

“Darcy!” she told him. “And I’m not that little!”

 

Loki chuckled. “Of course not; now let me take you back to the village. We have the family all picked out for you. Your room’s ready. We might have to wake them up quickly but I’m sure they won’t mind. You’re very lucky, they love new children.”

 

Darcy looked up at him. ”Can’t I stay with you?”

 

Loki laughed. “Sadly not. I don’t have much space.”

 

Silence fell between them as they walked away from the platform and down a path leading to the country road that would take them to the village. The road was lined by thick trees and fields beyond them.

 

“If I had been put on a train tomorrow, I would not have had to wait in the dark,” Darcy mused, making Loki chuckle.

 

“That’s true though I suspect your mother probably wanted to get you out of the city as quickly as possible.” He told her. He looked back in surprise when she suddenly stopped, her face falling for a moment and her eyes gazing downwards to the floor. “Darcy?”

 

“Do you think the bombs got her? Do you think she’s dead?” Darcy asked in a low tone.

 

Loki moved over to her and knelt in front of her. “I do not know, Darcy but I do know you cannot give up hope. Your mother may well be fine and awaiting the end of this war so you can come home.”

 

Darcy swallowed. “Or not.”

 

Loki gently reached up to stroke her head. “Maybe not but you don’t know that and until you do, do not fret over what might not be. Stay strong for your mother, alright?”

 

Darcy swallowed hard and nodded. “I-I’ll try.”

 

Loki smiled down at her as he rose and took her hand. “Come along. Let’s get you to your new home.”

 

With a nod, the ten-year-old followed him and they walked together through the dark.

 

xxxxxx

 

Loki paid a brief visit to London following the end of the war and arrived at King’s Cross at the approximate time for the arrival of some of the evacuees. He stood there for fifteen minutes watching the colourful assortment of reunions between parents and their older children. The sight of one child in particular caught his eye.

 

Darcy was fifteen now, on the way to becoming a beautiful young woman, her dark hair held back by a band, her soft blue dress covered by a long black coat. Her arms wrapped around her ecstatic parents and Loki watched from afar, glad that this family hadn’t been torn apart as many others in the country had been.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

June 4th 2014

 

“A carnival, Darcy? Seriously?” Jane asked as they entered the field that was filled with tents, rides and balloons of various colours. The sky was bright with sunlight and the area was already filled with excited children, families and young people.

 

“Yes, a carnival,” Darcy told her friend. “You need a break. You need to give that big brain of yours a rest. So we’re going to spend the day here.”

 

“Darcy I have so much work-”

 

“Enough!” Darcy reprimanded her. “If you don’t take a day off, you’ll burn out.”

 

“Even so, carnivals aren’t really my thing,” Jane looked about her doubtfully.

 

“At least give it a try,” Darcy insisted and dragged her off in the direction of a tent.

 

xxxxxx

 

“Hypnotism? Really?” Jane asked sceptically as they joined a crowd gathered around the inside of a tent. A gentleman in a purple suit was circling a young woman, giggling on a chair. He was murmuring to her to imagine that she was on the shores of the Nile with her husband on honeymoon and that in three seconds, she would be there again.

 

“Oh please,” Darcy murmured in amusement. “If nothing else it’s a laugh.”

 

The seconds passed and the hypnotist clapped their hands. Instantly the woman rose to her feet slowly and began to look around her.

 

“Gerald!” she called. “Don’t go too far that way. There’s crocodiles that way. Stay on the safe part with me,” she called to no one.

Jane shook her head in amusement. “He’s totally paid her to do this.”

 

The woman began to pace around. “Come on, Gerald,” she called. “It’s getting hot here.” She began to fan herself which only made Jane scoff some more.

 

“Now she’s just going overboard.”

 

“Is she?” Darcy asked.

 

Jane looked at her. “You’re not serious.”

 

“Look at her face!” Darcy pointed out.

 

There were a few gasps amongst the crowd when the woman’s face began to go red. Jane’s eyes widened considerably and she stepped forward.

 

“How are you doing that?” she asked the hypnotism.

 

The man grinned. “Exactly what it says on the board –hypnotism, it’s hot in Egypt.”

 

As the woman’s face began to go redder, the crowds began to call out too.

 

“Stop the trick! She’s overheating!”

 

“That is extraordinary!”

 

“I want to be hypnotised too!”

 

“No, you don’t Billy!”

 

Jane looked around her in shock. “Are these people crazy? We have a potentially real hypnotist and they want to go under his spell?”

 

Darcy stepped forward. “Can I go next?”

 

“Darcy!”

 

“Of course, madam.” The hypnotist nodded before turning to his current customer and whistling three times. She stumbled and her eyes widened in fright as she looked around shakily. Meanwhile Jane tugged Darcy aside.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, Jane! I’m grabbing it with both hands!”

 

“It could be dangerous.” Jane pointed out.

 

“Well then I have you here,” Darcy retorted before striding forwards as the other customer left the tent. She sat down and grinned up at the man.

 

“So what would you like to know or experience?” the hypnotist asked, his bright brown eyes boring into hers as he leant over her.

 

“I’ve always wanted to know if I have a past life,” Darcy spoke after a moment. “Can you find out?”

 

The hypnotist grinned. “Of course.”

 

He began to circle her, murmuring words of a language that she couldn’t quite place. She looked about her expectantly before a swinging object caught her attention. She couldn’t take her eyes of it. Her eyelids grew heavy with watching it. Suddenly she was falling.

 

Memories began to overload her senses, each rushing at her with various images.

 

She saw; a grand manor house, a maid helping her dress and a dark haired handsome man looming over her bed. That same man was then laughing and mopping her brow. The sight of this man sent chills of the strangest feelings resonating through her. Words and conversations began to bounce around her head as she continued to see random images; horses, a well-dressed gentleman, a couple dressed in nobility attire, their faces vague and painted with powder. The dark haired man returned to the forefront of her image as a conversation lingered in the background – the sounds of them joking about an illness. Her heart began to beat faster at the sight of that man passed through her memories so easily.

 

She emerged from the memories like reaching the surface of water. Her eyes widened, a gasp escaped her throat and suddenly it disappeared again, replaced by more memories.

In her mind, she saw King’s Cross statement full of children and their parents dressed in wartime attire. She felt so small when a dark haired woman leant over her, telling her that it was going to be alright. Smoke filled the area as the train prepared to go. Children were being boarded and Darcy felt herself being pulled on board by some of the officers. Her own voice crying out for her mother was silenced by a brief darkness.

 

She stood upon a platform all alone, then she was sitting on a bench on the platform whilst the same dark haired man from earlier looked down at her, talking to her, reassuring her. The scene changed and they were on a road, walking together when she stopped and she could hear herself worrying about the bombs. The dark haired man’s voice resounded in her head as the scene blurred one last time to reveal King’s Cross again with a couple eagerly pulling her into their arms. The image jolted Darcy back to the present.

 

She gasped and jumped out of her chair. Looking around wildly, she handed the hypnotist some money and rushed out. She barely heard Jane running after her, calling her name.

 

“Darcy!”

 

Darcy slowed to a stop, after reaching the end of the line of tents, where a stretch of bare field faced her. She felt her friend take her arm.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

Darcy turned to her wild-eyed. “I had several past lives, Jane. I saw them all.”

 

“ _What?!_ ” Jane asked incredulously. “When?”

 

Darcy took a moment to catch her breath. “One was in some medieval home... the second... I think I was being evacuated. But I was all alone. And there was the same man in both of them.” She swallowed.

 

“Who was the man?” Jane asked. “What did he look like?”

 

“I... I think it was Loki.” Darcy murmured. “I’m sure it was.”

 

Jane frowned. “Loki...”

 

Darcy sank down onto the grass. “That’s not the strangest thing though.” She looked up at Jane. “The hypnotist did more than just awaken my memory.... I just felt all these feelings.”

 

Jane sat down quietly. “What feelings?”

 

“It was weird, like I’d been keeping them all locked up, never experienced them even back then,” Darcy murmured.

 

“Maybe you did,” Jane suggested. “Women were oppressed then.” She leant in close. “Are you talking about romantic feelings?”

 

Darcy nodded. “I told you it was weird. I felt the feelings strongest in the medieval memories. He was looking after me and... I heard so many conversations and they just... awakened these feelings.” She buried her face in her hands. “I know what you’re going to say. He’s evil, he terrorised New York.”

 

Jane eyed her. “You’re projecting Darcy. You know that Loki made amends for his actions, serving the city rebuild and helping against Malekith.”

 

“But his reputation isn’t ideal is it?” Darcy insisted.

 

Jane smiled. “Neither is Thor’s. He nearly caused a war.” She reached over and took Darcy’s hand. “Besides logic doesn’t come into it. If you have feelings for a god, then that’s it.”

 

Darcy ran her hands over her face. “It’s just so messed up!” she said. “I barely know him in this life and yet he’s watched over me in two others.”

 

Jane smiled softly. “That’s kinda sweet.”

 

“Yes it is, damn him.” Darcy growled. “And where is he now? I bet he’s in Asgard, too far away for me to reach him and ask him what the damn hell is going on?”

 

“Or maybe he’s just waiting for you to turn around,” a familiar voice drawled. Darcy whirled around on the floor and gazed up. Loki stood there in his black and green leather outfit, smirking down at her. “It’s about time you woke up...” he told her.

 

Darcy stumbled to her feet. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane stumble away and rush to go and greet Thor who stood in the background. Darcy’s eye was fixed on Loki.

“W-why... why now and not then? Why...?” she trailed off.

 

“Because you are my soulmate,” Loki told her gently. “But it was never the right time until now,” he added, advancing on her. He reached down and took her hands.

 

Darcy looked bewildered. “Soulmate?”

 

Loki smiled. “Soulmate.” And with that he kissed her.

 

The feel of her soulmate’s lips on hers decided Darcy’s actions. Explanations could wait.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

4th June 2015

 

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife.”

 

The Asgardian court erupted into applause as Loki and his newly immortalised bride shared their first kiss as their new married status. The light shone perfectly on both of them; Loki in his ceremonial armour and Darcy in her floor length ivory strapless gown with bejewelled corset and billowing skirt. Loki’s hands gently entwined in her long ringlets and held her close to him. Darcy’s hands rested on his elbows as their kiss spoke of a long journey. A journey that ended right here in Asgard with the happiest of endings.

 

___________________________________________________________________________

 

4th June 2020

 

It wasn’t quite the ending for their story. Five years on found them in their marital bed, both of them rocking a soft infant in their arms.

 

One year old, Idunn Lokadottir lay in her father’s arms, her green eyes alive with mischief as her chocolate brown curls fell into her wide face. Her twin, Balder Lokason lay in the arms of his mother, restlessly wriggling about and giggling at his mother’s dangling ringlets, the same shade as his own, trying to grab them. His green eyes gazed up at her with adoration and was returned tenfold by his mother.

 

Darcy turned and looked at her husband with a smile. He returned it and nothing was spoken aloud. Nothing was needed to be said.

 

They had it all.


End file.
